A Shakespearean Tragedy
by You're-Not-So-Big
Summary: The Ghost Writer finds himself between a rock and a hard place. Though his initial instincts compel him to obey Vlad Plasmius, his ethics eventually get in the way of being able to ignore the emotions of a certain distraught ghost boy.
1. Prologue

**A Shakespearean Tragedy**

Prologue

* * *

_The Ghost Writer looked solemnly down at his long, boney fingers before curling them tight and releasing, a small habit he had acquired very early on during his never ending career and couldn't help but use before the beginning of every sitting. He then stretched them outward, trying to work the kinks from his weary fingers in preparation. This time, there was no joking around. This time, the Ghost Writer repeatedly told himself, was strictly business. Nothing personal. Besides being his most dramatic and cold hearted, this manuscript was going to be his best work yet._

_After all, he already had half of the payment, and, if he was to receive the rest, his new employer would expect nothing less._

_Tiredly, the author sighed and powered up his keyboard. His wan complexion became even paler as he eyed the briefcase of money sitting at his feet and the weight of the decision to accept his employer's proposition settled even further upon his already hunched shoulders. Was he really ready to do something so cruel to an enemy?_

_The first taps of the keys were sparse and the echo was amplified by the ominous and spacious domed ceiling of the library, but then, and with increasing regularity, the tapping began to take on speed and the echo was soon lost. _

_In the end, the Ghost Writer decided, it was high time he finally went professional and accepted pay for his work. He just hoped it wouldn't get out of hand._

* * *

He watched them, all of them, dancing and celebrating, laughing and feasting, as if death was a cause for celebration. He pressed his pale hands against a frosty window of the mansion and watched silently as the newly weds inside uncorked a thin bottle of Krug champagne, delight clearly etched into every line of their faces, stretching their smiles wide. The cork popped, the champagne bubbled over, and with shouts of joy and merriment, the wife and husband filled their glasses as everyone clapped. He hadn't planned on listening, but when the husband held out his glass and began to speak, the dark haired boy felt a terrible urge to hear the words that spilled from the man's mouth. He quickly rounded the corner of the stone mansion to the open deck, where an open sliding glass door revealed the multitude of guests listening to the grand speech within.

"…to proclaim a toast, so that even in these dark times we may find comfort and solace in those around us." The husband's deep, confident voice struck ringing, disagreeing chords within the boy listening from the darkness outside, and for a moment he turned away. "In tandem with most everyone here, I have mourned for my good friend every day since his most unfortunate departure from this world. He was much more than a great man and he is dearly missed, but my wife and I feel that the delight of our union might balance the sorrow and loss we all share." He turned to his wife, his expression and voice undoubtedly sincere. "Maddie, dear, I love you with all my heart, and I know our marriage will be strong…."

It went on for some time, longer than the boy felt he could bear, and every time a guest added insight or expressed their happiness, he couldn't help but wince. Then, thankfully, it was over, the newly weds stepped away from the podium, and the crowd dispersed into small groups, each guest sitting or standing with cocktails in one hand and hors d'œuvres in the other. The boy outside watched them converse and celebrate with a detached expression that seemed to be permanently seared into the frame of his small face.

"Daniel." The boy nearly jumped when the smooth voice spoke to him. The husband, who seemed to have appeared from literally nowhere, had always taken a special interest in him, and this fact never failed to put him on his guard. "Why are you hiding out here?" The boy regarded his new step father with an air of indifference and didn't answer. In turn, the man looked his step son up and down with a small frown. "You're still wearing black?"

The boy's mother, now the wife of his father's best friend, soon joined them, bringing along with her a posse of close friends. Their smiles all faded when they looked upon the boy who avoided their gazes.

"Maddie, love," the husband began, turning to his wife, "he's still in his mourning clothes. Surely you can talk some sense into him?"

The wife placed her hands on her son's shoulders. "Danny, I told you before; this is a _wedding_." She spoke with desperation, and though her son looked up to meet her eyes, his frown never faltered. Danny looked away from her for a moment into the faces of her friends. He was sure that, had he any more emotions to spare, he would have been thoroughly embarrassed by being scolded by his mother in front of so many people. His gaze met hers once more, and Maddie released her tight grip and sighed heavily. "You don't have to be here. Sweetie, if you'd rather leave, I'm giving you my permission." Honestly, Danny thought sullenly as he gazed into his mother's loving, purple eyes, he had never needed her permission before.

"Dear boy, _all_ sons must lose their fathers some time." Danny sharply turned away from his mother and spared another weighing glance towards his new step father, seeing straight through the comforting words and caring demeanor to the cold, indifferent soul inside. A feeling of deep anger began to rise from the pit of his stomach as his new step father began to lecture him. "You're absolutely right to mourn, Daniel, but mourning for too long…. You must be strong, now." The familiar glint Danny had come to hate suddenly appeared in the man's eye, accompanied by the knowing smirk. "I'm urging you to think of me as a father. You know I'm always here for you."

Danny bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything in reply when, thankfully, someone else wanted the attention of the married couple. "Mr. and Mrs. Masters!" a voice shouted from somewhere farther back in the large room. The group of them—Mr. and Mrs. Masters, and the people standing with them all turned to see a group of men in expensive looking black suits waving the newly weds towards them. "We would like to discuss your conglomerate companies…."

Their attention seemingly diverted, Danny turned away from the group to find solace in the courtyard instead. He was stopped in his tracks when his new step father suddenly gripped his left wrist. He spun wildly at the touch and, after glaring angrily into the cold grey eyes of Vlad Masters, he tried to jerk himself away, but the man's steadfast grip was too tight.

"Maddie, dear, go on ahead—I'll be there shortly," Vlad called to his new wife, who was already walking away with her group of friends. She nodded without looking back, and almost immediately, the man's grip on Danny's wrist tightened painfully, and it was all the boy could do to not cry out.

"Don't you _dare_ try and ruin this for me, boy," the man whispered menacingly into Danny's ear, and for a moment, the boy stopped struggling to stare openly at him. Vlad's cheerful, carefree demeanor had vanished, leaving behind something much more frightening. "I've worked hard to come this far. It's over. Your father is long gone."

Danny paled and, with one last yank, he willed his wrist intangible and ripped it away from the older man. Hatred and fear began to well in his chest, and his throat contracted painfully, preventing him from saying anything. He looked into Vlad's intimidating eyes one last time before he turned and ran into the dark courtyard of the mansion.

"You can't escape, Daniel!" he heard the older half-ghost yell from behind him, and for the first time, Danny found himself—however bitterly—agreeing with his stepfather. There was no turning back time. There was no escape.

* * *

_If he was going to do this, the Ghost Writer decided as he looked over his raw work, it was going to be an homage to only the best of writers. He reread it for mistakes and picked up a mug before downing the last bit of cold coffee that stained the bottom of the cup. When he was sure everything was perfect, he smiled, baring his pointed teeth._

_Vlad Plasmius would surely be pleased._

* * *

**A/N**: My beta for this story is Miriam1. Thank you Miriam!


	2. Chapter One

**A Shakespearean Tragedy**

Chapter One

* * *

_"You have the briefcase," the taller ghost said as he crossed his arms._

_The Ghost Writer nodded his head vigorously in reply. Pushing up his thick wire glasses, he acknowledged his employer with a "yes."_

_"Very good." Vlad Plasmius said. He eyed the dark haired writer with a frown. "Because you know what will happen if your end of the deal doesn't satisfy mine."_

_The Ghost Writer paled slightly, and pointed to the dark leather briefcase half hidden underneath his expansive keyboard. "The money is a generous incentive," he said, trying hard to swallow his nerves as the half ghost inspected the ecto-monitor embedded in his keyboard, "to keep writing my best."_

_"It is very good so far," Plasmius admitted, as he bent to read the final draft of the first installment, "though I thought you made my speech a little too long. But what matters is that the boy doesn't suspect a thing and everyone seems to be acting as they should." Straightening to face the author at his full height, he continued, "I expect you won't let me down."_

_The Ghost Writer blinked when, without warning, the other ghost disappeared in a swirl of pink. He had been about to apologize for the length of the wedding toast he had made Plasmius give, but was now alone once again, not quite ready to face the daunting task of writing another chapter. But he sat down at the keyboard anyway, and, after a quick sip of his morning coffee, he began to type. The rush of once again gaining control over the will of the characters in the slowly washed through him, fueling his motivation. Soon he was no longer in the chilly room in the back of the Ghost Zone library, but there, in his story with the characters of his latest manuscript, describing their every move and forcing their wills to his._

* * *

Danny slowed to a walk when he felt he was a safe distance away from the mansion. He walked on thinning trails through the thick forest brush until he reached a small, narrow clearing. The long since landscaped area had become overrun with weeds and on the far side of the clearing stood a dejected and barely lit fountain. Danny sat opposite the fountain on a crumbling stone bench and stared without blinking at the small trickle of water that managed to reach the basin underneath. The boy rested his head in his thin hands with a heavy sigh. The chill of the night caused a shiver to run up his spine and he pulled his thin jacket close. Rubbing his arms to make the goosebumps on his arms disappear, he closed his eyes. A wave of sorrow washed through the boy.

_It's not fair._ He let go of his jacket and clenched the edge of the bench in a grip so tight, he could no longer feel the cold in his fingers. "This isn't _fair_."

He hadn't called it to life, but it was there; as if in tune with his emotions, a green glow of energy gloved his hands and cracked the edges of the already decrepit bench. Danny blinked and quickly recalled the energy before the crumbling edge of the bench could fall apart completely.

He couldn't comprehend it at all. His mother and father had been so deeply in love that he thought not even death could separate them. But, as he knew all too well, Mrs. Fenton had wasted little time before becoming Mrs. Masters. He hardly even wanted anything to do with his mother, now that she was bound to the man who used to be unable to refrain from making disparaging remarks towards her late husband.

The dark haired boy was suddenly jerked from his thoughts when a twig snapped from the thicket behind him. He spun and searched the surrounding area for the source of the noise, but the fountain lighting did little to help him see through the darkness of the night.

"Danny?" a scratchy, familiar voice called from behind a particularly tall bush. "'Sthat you?"

Danny began to exhale a long, relieved breath when he saw her, but held it when he remembered that his hands had just been glowing bright green. He slid palms underneath himself and hoped with all his heart that she hadn't seen. The last thing he needed was for her to discover that he was half of the very creature she hunted. "Valerie!"

"What are you doing out here?" his friend wondered, shivering from the cold, and Danny finally breathed with ease when he realized she hadn't been witness to his powers. "I can see my own breath!"

"I didn't feel well," he explained. It wasn't a total lie. Becoming the stepson of his enemy didn't exactly make him feel like bringing out the party supplies. "What are you doing here?"

"Bored," Valerie said simply, taking a seat on the bench next to her friend. Danny was surprised it didn't completely fall apart under their combined weight. "Dad's trying to strike another deal with your new…your parents."

Danny winced when he realized she had been about to call Vlad his new father and didn't reply. Instead he looked down at his hands, his melancholic expression betraying his emotions.

Valerie became worried. "Danny." She looked into her friend's face with the intention of meeting his eyes, but he didn't look up. "You okay?"

The boy clenched his eyes shut and swallowed as if he had tasted something sour. Finally he looked up. "I'll be fine."

Knowing she wasn't going to get a better answer, Valerie gave him a smile. She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. They sat like that for a moment, before Valerie let go. "You're really cold," she said with a tiny laugh, and Danny couldn't help but smile at his friend when she stood up and shivered.

The joy didn't reach his eyes, however, and the smile soon dissipated. "I can't stop…," he began quietly, and Valerie had to almost lean in to hear. "I can't stop thinking about Dad." Valerie reached out and gave one of his hands a small squeeze and Danny sighed as he looked up into his friend's warm, understanding eyes. "I think I'm going crazy," he continued. "Everywhere I look, I see him." Suddenly Valerie's smile vanished and she dropped his hand. Danny searched her face questioningly. "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, not meeting his gaze. "Go on."

"Valerie, I know when you're lying," Danny said, narrowing his eyes.

"It's really getting cold," his friend said, pulling her downy, red coat close. "You want to come with me back inside?"

"No," Danny replied. "I want to know what was wrong. You looked like you saw a ghost." It wasn't very noticeable in the dark, but in the dim light of the dying fountain, Danny could have sworn that Valerie paled slightly.

"I—," she began, and Danny wanted to grab her and tell her to spit out what she was going to say. "I…saw him." Warm green eyes finally met chilling blue, and Valerie shuddered a little. "I was…walking around Vlad's mansion last night and I think I saw your father's ghost, Danny, and he doesn't look so great."

Danny jumped to his feet, ignoring her lame cover for wandering the mansion's halls. He knew without a doubt that she had been searching for ghosts. "What?"

She bit her lower lip and nodded, an odd expression on her rounded face. "Well, I was alone…. I didn't know who it was and I…happened to have a gun at the time. I was scared, so I shot—"

"You shot at my father?" Danny's voice had raised several octaves. He grabbed his friend's arm, giving her a rough shake. "I can't believe it, Val, I—" Danny paused for a moment when realization finally dawned on him. He released his grip on Valerie. "My father's a ghost," he said in awe, his mouth wide. "Dad's a ghost."

"Danny, you're not listening to me!" Valerie shouted, rubbing the sleeve of her coat where the dark haired boy had grabbed her. "I shot at him, yes," she admitted, "but the blast went right through him. It was so weird."

Danny honored his friend with a dubious glare. "How late was it when you saw him? Maybe you were just seeing things."

Valerie shook her head wildly in protest. "Danny, I know what I saw. I even spoke to him—"

"You talked to him?" Danny gasped. "What did he say?"

Valerie frowned. "Well, he didn't exactly _say_ anything back. I asked him what he wanted, and he just kind of stared at me."

Danny once again donned a doubtful expression. "Come on, Valerie. I'm sure you were just tired. If he was a ghost, a blast from a Masters' Bazooka wouldn't have passed through him."

Valerie shook her head once more. "I'm positive, Danny," she told him in unwavering confidence. "I'm sure he'll talk to you—I'll show you where I saw him."

Her friend frowned, but didn't press the matter. "Whatever," he said, looking away. "Let's go back inside."

"Wait," the brown haired girl said, tugging on the shoulder of his coat. Danny turned to see the odd expression on her face. "How did you know I was using a Masters' weapon?"

Danny shrugged away from her hand, and resumed walking back towards the stone mansion looming darkly over the tops of the trees ahead. The happiness he had experienced seeing his friend had finally disappeared and the sorrow was back. He was no longer in a chatty mood. "Just a guess."

* * *

_The Ghost Writer finally finished the second installment of what was to be his best manuscript, but couldn't tear himself away from the monitor. He had always had a gift of empathizing with his characters. He could pin down exactly their desires, their plans, and their actions. But something new was happening, something greater. As the page became longer, every word became weightier. Something struck a discordant feeling in his chest. Was he sympathizing with the great Danny Phantom?_

_With a shake of his head, the Ghost Writer quickly decided that whether or not he felt pity for his old enemy, he had already received pay for his work, and therefore must commit to his employer's bidding. And his employer had bid him to keep writing, so that was exactly what he was going to do._

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **Thanks for reviewing, I really hope you liked this chapter.


	3. Chapter Two

**A Shakespearean Tragedy**

Chapter Two

_

* * *

_

_The Ghost Writer paused, shifting in his seat. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Using a researched character was one thing—he couldn't even recall how many days he had spent spying on the little half ghost—but how could he write about people he barely knew? He had almost forgotten to take into account the ghost boy's friends. He could only describe them in terms of the time they spent with Danny, which could prove to be a serious problem. If his main character suspected even a thing, his whole plot could unravel at the seams. The results of a chaotic story could be disastrous, and disaster would not spell good news for the Ghost Writer. Plasmius was not a ghost one would want to upset._

_Reluctantly but eventually, the Ghost Writer cracked his knuckles and settled down once more. He was going to have to wing it._

* * *

"You haven't seen Danny have you?"

Jazz peeled herself from the stony wall of the spacious ballroom and rubbed the impression left on her exposed back by the coarse stones. She rarely wore uncomfortable clothes, but the backless dress bought for her with Vlad's money was giving that old, itchy knitted sweater hanging in the back of her closet huge competition. "No," she replied, turning to her brother's friend, who was considerably shorter than she was. "I haven't seen him all night."

Tucker looked down at his digital watch with a frown. "I could have sworn he said to meet him here by—"

"Hey, guys. Seen Danny at all?" Jazz and Tucker both turned to find Sam approaching them in a little black slip of a dress. Jazz had never before seen Sam's hair down and found herself admiring its length.

"No," the forlorn sister sighed. "He's been AWOL since dinner. You look good, Sam."

Sam blushed. "Thanks, but, ah," she began, nonchalantly scratching her neck before turning to search for any sign of eavesdropping adults, "is it just me, or has Danny been acting a little weird lately?"

Jazz exhaled heavily, relieved that someone else felt the same. "I really don't think he's taking the whole wedding thing too well," she supplied. "I mean, I don't blame mom, but I think he's having a hard time with her and, uh…."

She trailed off just in time to catch sight of an all too familiar approaching figure. "Jasmine," her new stepfather drawled as he gave the woman hanging off his shoulders a squeeze around her middle. "Having fun?"

"Totally," she said weakly as she raised her glass of sparkling cider. Vlad's gesture caused Maddie to laugh, catching Jazz's attention. "Hey, Mom."

"Hello, Sweetie," her mother cried enthusiastically, releasing her husband to engulf her daughter in a warm hug. "How's my little girl?"

"I'm fine." Jazz regarded her mother with a smile as she tried to keep her beverage from spilling. While only negative feelings rolled around her stomach at the thought of her mother marrying Vlad Masters, she couldn't deny that her mother hadn't looked happier since the time before Jack's accident. "Oh, Mom? Have you seen Danny at all?"

Mrs. Masters paused in thought while Mr. Masters smoothly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Jazz shivered at the knowing look in his cold, blue eyes. "Actually," Maddie said, pointing a finger to the open deck. "We just saw him come in from outside."

When his new wife looked to him expectantly, Vlad nodded. "Yes. We had a brief chat. I asked him to join the party, but he unfortunately told me he preferred the cold outdoors. I saw Miss Gray looking for him, too, if it helps you at all."

"Thanks," Jazz said tersely, biting back the urge to reveal her true feelings. "I'll see if I can find him."

"Why don't you three try to cheer him up?" Maddie said, giving Tucker and Sam a gentle push in the direction of the deck. "I'm worried. He's been acting a little depressed lately. Oh, and don't forget your coats!"

The couple quickly moved on to older company, leaving the three teenagers to find Danny.

"Wow, that must get annoying," Tucker quipped, watching the newly weds walk away.

"It does," Jazz agreed. "He just appears out of nowhere and asks us how we are." She gave Tucker a look of pure exasperation. "It's getting hard not to just push him in the punch bowl."

"Great. Coat check's by the front door," Sam lamented, frowning at the sea of old people the three of them would have to dodge to reach their coats.

"Come on," Jazz said seriously, undeterred. She grabbed the two younger teens by their arms and pulled them into the crowd.

They almost reached the front of the mansion when Sam felt a tug on her wrist. She pulled away from Jazz to see her mother looking down her thin nose at her.

"Samantha!"

Sam cringed at the use of her full name. "You guys go ahead," she said quickly to Jazz and Tucker. "I'll meet you out there."

Jazz gave her a small smile and left with their techno-whiz of a friend just as Sam's mother pulled her daughter into an empty niche.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked in a tone of overwhelming superiority.

"Mrs. Fent—Masters wants us to find Danny," Sam explained carefully, hoping her mother would let her leave.

Her hopes where soon dashed, however, when her mother made a sound of disgust. "You're too close to that Fenton boy. It's making us look bad," she said, peering worriedly around the room as if she could feel the judgment of all the other wealthy families. "Why don't you be a big girl and stay inside?"

"But—"

"You have to circulate, darling—how else will you get to know all the boys out there with dignified backgrounds?" Pamela cooed, tucking her daughter's dark hair behind her ear. She looked nonchalantly over at a dark, young man standing stiffly beside his parents, a look of pure agony etched into his otherwise handsome face. Following her gaze, Sam was only barely able to bite back the comment she longed to make about how he was clearly being tortured by boredom.

"That's Nathan Pittari," her mother remarked. "His parents own a large oil company in the Middle East."

Sam brushed her hand away. "Yeah, okay," she said with a roll of her large, purple eyes. "Don't care."

Sam moved to leave, but Pamela again caught hold of her. "Samantha, if—"

"Why are you worried about how it looks for me to be with Danny?" Sam growled, yanking her hand away. "His family's finally loaded."

Pamela smiled as she tried to get her daughter to understand. "His family married into money," she agreed, "but that doesn't change the fact that the new Mrs. _Masters_ is still out of her mind. I can't for the life of me figure out what Vlad finds attractive in someone like Madeline. Once a loony, always a loony."

Sam's scowl deepened. "Don't talk about them like that! They're nice people," she said angrily, pushing past her mother to finally reach the coat check. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see you never."

Sam didn't look back when her mother shouted her name, but smiled inwardly when heads turned and Pamela fell silent.

She never regretted a fight.

------

Tucker jumped when the sound of crunching leaves echoed in the dark. "What was that?"

Jazz shook her head, though she knew the techno-geek wouldn't be able to see. "I don't know."

"Tuck? Jazz?" a wavering voice called and the two teens were surprised to see a bright red figure ambling slowly towards them.

"Valerie?" Tucker called, very familiar with the voice of his first real crush.

"Hey, guys!" she exclaimed with a visible smile. When Valerie approached them, they were surprised to see Danny trailing along behind her, not nearly as visible as she was in his dark clothes. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"We were just looking for Danny," Jazz explained. "Why were you out here, Danny?"

Danny favored his sister with a sullen glower.

"He's not feeling too well," Valerie explained when he didn't, almost at the same time Tucker's watch beeped. The brown haired girl's smile faded when she caught sight of the boy's watch. "Oh, crap! It's so late—my dad wanted me to get ready for bed." She rushed past Tucker, Danny, and Jazz with one last apologetic glance. "Keep your phone on, Danny! Oh, and don't forget to thank Mr. Masters again for letting us sleep here!"

Danny watched her go with a sour expression. "The stupid place is so big, Vlad probably doesn't even notice they're here."

"Dude," Tucker said, clapping his friend lightly on the back, "really, what are you doing out here? It's freezing!"

"I really don't feel like talking right now, Tuck," Danny replied, turning his back on his friend.

"Danny, we're just trying to cheer you up," Jazz said in a voice that almost hurt the blue eyed boy's ears. He found himself wondering how someone whose father had recently passed could be so chipper.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not," the techno-geek argued.

"Danny, you can tell us how you're feeling," Jazz told her brother solemnly. "You know I'm always willing to help you. I love you." Danny refused to say anything. When the silence became agonizing, his sister placed a slim hand on his shoulder. "Sam's trying to find you. Will you talk to her?"

The mention of Sam caught Danny by surprise. His heart jolted and he winced. He definitely did not want her to see him like this. "I'm going to bed. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning." The barely cloaked false hope was as close as Jazz and Tucker were going to get to a cry for help from the young half ghost. Taking both teens by surprise, he disappeared without warning into thin air, leaving them both alone. Friend and Sister looked to each other with uncertainty in their eyes. How could they help Danny if he refused to let them?

----

Danny flew invisible to his new room and looked around in disgust. Baby blue walls complete with NASA posters and framed pictures stared him in the face, and he had to look at the floor. It was too similar to his old bedroom in Fenton Works. There was no doubt at all that it was yet another facet of Vlad's elaborate plan to keep him from doing anything. Danny's eyes burned at the thought of the man, but forced himself to keep the older half ghost away from his mind. All he wanted was to sleep until Valerie called him. Tonight they were going to rendezvous in the empty wing of the mansion, and the huntress was going to show him his father. He really didn't expect to find anything, but he was content with the attention he received from his old friend.

* * *

_The Ghost Writer couldn't help but feel annoyed with himself. Why? Out of all the times he had used his keyboard on enemies, why only now was he starting to feel anything? He had used his typewriter to teach lessons, to publish himself a library, to write himself out of jail, but when he was in this story, writing Danny Phantom into situations against the boy's will, he couldn't help but feel…sorry. When tears pricked at Danny's eyes, the Ghost Writer was surprised to find his own eyes stinging slightly. When Danny expressed annoyance at his sister, the Ghost Writer became fed up with the red haired girl. When Danny's heart twanged with the makings of an embarrassing crush, the Ghost Writer was moved. He wanted to slam his head on the edge of the desk._

_He wouldn't let this evolving problem destroy the perfect plotline._

_He wouldn't be able to afford it._

**_

* * *

_**

**A/N:** Thank you again for reviewing! I know my chapters should be longer, but I spend a lot of time on each one. Personally, I feel like this is both my best writing and my favorite story. Anyway, don't be afraid to tell me what you think! I love constructive criticism.


	4. Chapter Three

**A Shakespearean Tragedy**

Chapter Three_

* * *

_

_The Ghost Writer downed the last of his second mug of coffee in one large gulp. Blinking the blurriness from his eyes, he yawned, stretching his back in the process. Mid-yawn, he caught sight of the clock and froze. One forty three in the morning. With a startled yelp, he immediately resumed his typing. The next bit of action needed to happen before sunrise and he wasn't entirely sure he had enough time…_

* * *

"Danny, you have to save me!" Jazz shrieked as she ran past him. Danny twisted to see her dive into the living room before a loud thumping noise reached his ears. His eyes widened and, turning back to see who his sister was running from, he gasped. A huge, orange-clad man was running full speed towards him, two fishing rods in hand. Jack Fenton skidded to a halt just in front of his son before grabbing him in an iron grip.

"Hey, there, Danny!" he yelled happily as he squeezed the air out of his son's lungs in a big hug.

"Hi, Dad," Danny wheezed. Pointing to the fishing rods in his father's hands, he asked, "What are you doing with those?"

Jack let go of his son and grinned, baring all of his oversized teeth. "Jazz promised she'd let me teach her how to fish—and what better way than with the Fenton Ghost Fishing Rods?"

At first, Danny was terrified. He didn't want to deal with another Ghost Dragon. But then, slowly, a small, malicious grin spread across his face.

"Jazz told me she's waiting for you in there," he said, giving away his sister's location by pointing to the living room.

"Great!" Jack bellowed. "Thanks, son!" A blur of neon orange disappeared into the living room and Danny couldn't hold back a chuckle when he heard his sister's lame protests. He fell back onto the couch and phased a hand through the seat cushion to find the remote before turning on his favorite program with a contented sigh. It felt like just another average day in the Fenton household, where he was sure nothing could ever go wrong. Instead of watching the television, he watched his father drag a reluctant Jazz through the basement door.

"Don't think you're getting away with this!" he heard her yell from the basement and even though he knew the threat was directed at him, he smiled and returned his attention to the television. The program, called "Shopping with Sycophants," had just left for commercial break, so Danny began flipping through channels. He was almost about to watch Embarrassing Celebrity Arrests when the floor underneath his feet began to shake in tune with a loud buzzing sound. Cracks ran up the walls of the house and pieces of ceiling sprinkled to the ground in front of him.

"Aaah!"

Danny's eyes flew open and he jolted awake. It took him only seconds to realize that it had all just been a dream and the crushing weight of reality once again replaced happy memories of his father. He had fallen asleep on his cell phone, which was currently vibrating with a call from Valerie Gray. He quickly flipped it open and held it to his ear.

"Valerie?" he mumbled tiredly.

"I thought we were meeting on the first floor at a quarter to two!"

The urgency in her voice drew Danny out of his sleepiness. "Yeah?"

"It's one fifty," she said blandly.

"Oh," he said, wincing. "Sorry. I'll be right there."

Dressed in his striped blue pajamas, Danny let himself drop through several floors until he was at ground level. He made his way to the servant's closet at which he and Valerie had previously agreed to meet and opened the door. Valerie stood, wrapped in embarrassing pink, hearted pajamas, a glare on her face.

"That was fast."

Danny gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry I kept you waiting. Nice PJ's."

She raised an eyebrow without comment. "Let's go."

They began their walk through the west hallway, an eerie silence settling over them both. Their feet made no sound on the thick carpet and everything but the shadows of the dim, gas lighting remained motionless.

"Is there anybody even here?" Danny finally asked.

Valerie kept her eyes on the hallway in front of them as she replied, "I don't think so. I think all the guests were given rooms upstairs."

They walked even further down the hall without a word, passing a myriad of mahogany doors with handles of gold. They inspected every nook and cranny of the hallway, Valerie's face was grim with determination, and Danny's tired and expectation-less. When they neared the end, it was Valerie whose shoulders slumped.

"What if I was just seeing things?" she muttered angrily to herself. Turning to Danny, she donned a disappointed expression. "I'm really sorry, Danny, but I could have sworn I saw something down here."

Danny only shrugged. "It's okay, Val."

"Let's just go back to sleep," the girl said, finally allowing herself to feel tired. She yawned and patted her friend on the shoulder. "Come on."

Danny started to walk back with her when a chill ran up his spine. He froze and his eyes slightly widened.

"Danny?"

He saw his friend give him a strange look and he frowned in response. "You go on ahead," he told her. "I… I'm just going to find bathroom."

Valerie shrugged without giving his words a second thought. "Okay. 'Night."

"See you in the morning, Val," Danny called after his friend who was slowly and tiredly disappearing into the shadows. He watched her until he could no longer see her pink pajamas moving with her trudging steps. Then he turned to find the source of his chill.

He jumped, biting back a cry of surprise when he found a large figure looming over him. A ghost.

The ghost didn't move; instead, it simply stared as Danny slowly backed away. The ghost was colorless and translucent, and it stared at him with two longing pale eyes. There was no doubt in Danny's mind that it was his father who stood in front of him.

"Dad?" Even to his own ears, Danny's whisper sounded very far away.

"Danny." His father's voice was just as quiet, but instead of awe, it carried a hint of pain. Jack reached out towards his son with a barely glowing see-through hand.

Danny reached out to return the gesture, but his own hand passed right through his fathers'. "What's happened to you?"

Jack's hand became hazy, as if Danny had just waved his hand through a thick fog, but it soon regained form. "_Vlad_," came the low, drawn out response.

Danny found himself shaking his head, even though he had known it all along. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. "No…."

There was no answer and Danny blinked when his father began to fade from his sight.

"Wait! Don't go!" He was no longer whispering, but yelling. "You can't leave me here with—with—"

"_Don't let him destroy me,_" were the last words Danny heard from his father before Jack completely evaporated.

"Don't go!" Danny yelled even louder, but in the back of his mind, he knew his father was not going to return, no matter how much he protested. Overwhelming anger gripped the boy's mind and he let an ecto-blast fly from his fingertips. How dare his father leave his broken family in the hands of Vlad Masters? He did not even spare a glance at the scorched hole in the striped wall paper before he screamed, "You can't leave!"

Ecto-energy worked its way into his throat and he let it loose with more, wordless yelling. The hallway swayed with the reverberations of his voice.

"_Come back!_"

By the time Danny had worn himself out, the hallway was no longer empty. Servants with gaslights, disturbed guests, and Vlad Masters himself stood in shock at a the unconscious figure lying in the burnt hallway which had seemingly been attacked by a ghost.

* * *

_The Ghost Writer didn't even bother to check over the next chapter. He slumped over onto his keyboard and fell fast asleep. Not even the threat of Vlad Plasmius could keep him from getting a much needed nap._

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** Okay, now I need a nap... Sorry this chapter was so short! It was hard to start this story up again. Thanks so much for reviewing!


End file.
